Benediction (Plainsong #3)(70)

What should I say?

You just say this is a funeral notice for our neighbor Dad Lewis. And be slow when you do this. Don’t do nothing in a hurry. Remember what you’re doing here. This is a solemn occasion.

Alice got out and Berta May moved the car down to the corner of Fourth and Main. Alice went into all of the stores on the east side and crossed the street and entered the ones on the west side. When she was done, Berta May drove farther down Main Street and parked in the next block and watched as her granddaughter went in and out of those shops. She was wearing a blue dress. She looked like a nice girl. At the hardware store there was a Closed sign hung at the door and in the display window was a large piece of wrapping paper with writing in black. Our friend Dad Lewis died this morning. We’re closed until further notice.

In the last block of businesses Alice came back to the car before she had finished. That woman wanted to know if the preacher at the Community Church was doing the service.

What woman?

That woman in there.

What did you tell her?

I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t know what to say.

That’s exactly right. Anybody who asks you, you don’t know. And you’ll be telling the truth. It’s none of their business. People like her make me real tired.

When they returned home Berta May said, Now I’m going to go back and lay down a while. You take off your dress and put your shorts and T-shirt on.

Can I ride my bike?

Yes, but don’t you make no noise. I don’t want you bothering them next door.

What are they doing?

Those people are grieving. They’ve had a hard thing today. Other people are wanting to come and visit them and talk. They don’t need no noise outside. Do you understand?

Yes.

Not a sound.

Yes, Grandma.

Okay, go on and get out of that dress and hang it up. I don’t mean to sound unkind, honey. I’m just tired. You did a good job downtown just now. I’m proud of you.

Next door Alene and Willa were doing what they could to help. Alene washed the coffee cups and saucers in the kitchen sink and put them to dry. There was a dishwasher that Dad had brought home a long time ago but they didn’t want its disruption in the house now.

Lorraine and Mary had gone upstairs to lie down in the two bedrooms. When the phone rang Willa answered it at once and took down the caller’s name. The memorial will be held here at the house, she said, day after tomorrow. Yes, that’s right. Here at the house in the side yard, with a service at the cemetery afterward. Thank you, I’ll tell them.

Later that afternoon Richard came back with a handful of flowers and Alene met him at the front door. I’m Richard, he said. Maybe Lorraine mentioned me.

Yes. We’ve heard of you.

Is she available?

She’s sleeping, but you can come in and wait.

Well. I don’t want to be in the way. I’m happy to wait for her. She’ll probably get up pretty soon. She never sleeps very well.

Is that right? Alene said and led him into the living room.

He’d bought the flowers at the grocery store on the highway and he was carrying them in front of himself in their thin green tissue paper like a kind of ceremonial element.

This is my mother, Willa Johnson, Alene said. This is Lorraine’s friend from Denver.

Lorraine’s asleep, Willa said. And can’t be disturbed.

I’ll just sit and wait for her.

The women looked at each other and Alene took the flowers to the kitchen and returned with them in a vase and set the vase on the coffee table.

You don’t have to pay me any attention, he said.

The phone rang and Willa picked it up. This is the Lewis house. Willa Johnson speaking. She explained again about the services, and hung up.

And after a while Mary came downstairs and Richard stood up to meet her. I thought I had better come back, he said.

Yes, she said.

And then Lorraine came downstairs and he stood up again. I came back to see if I can help.

Did you.

I’d like to, if I can.

There’s nothing to do right now. Thank you for asking.

I brought you those flowers.

I see that. Thank you. They’re beautiful.

The women went out to the kitchen and he sat again on the couch, looking around the room, looking at the flowers. He picked up a magazine.

Toward the end of the afternoon Rudy and Bob came to the house. They were greeted at the door and brought into the living room and were introduced to Richard. Rudy and Bob had on their good wintertime suits and were sweating and red faced in the heat. They sat down on the couch.

You’ll have to excuse us now, Mary said. You’re welcome to stay.

She and Lorraine and Alene and Willa went back to the kitchen and closed the door.

Mary said, I can’t be sitting out there with them or anybody. I just can’t do it.

Mom, you don’t have to.

You do what you want, Alene said. You don’t need to think about anyone else today.

There will be other times later, Willa said, but today now you just go ahead and do what you feel you need to.

I don’t want to be rude. But I can’t sit out there. I think I need some air.

Do you want company?

She shook her head and went out to the backyard. They watched her through the window. She walked slowly into the shade under the tree and they watched her bend far over and touch the ground and lower herself onto her knees, wrapping herself in her arms, and now they could see she was crying, the top of her white head on the grass.